


i promise you (it will all make sense again)

by winterwatercolour



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archie Andrews is a Good Friend, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Jughead Jones-centric, M/M, Rain, Sick Character, Sick Jughead Jones, Storms, dramatic ass rain, jughead deserves better tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwatercolour/pseuds/winterwatercolour
Summary: A picture.Torn, sodden and crumpled on the cold, wet ground. It glistens with the rain.A picture of his family Jughead keeps in his pocket at all times. A picture that once filled with his cold heart with a little spark of warmth. Even just a little. A picture that once served as his only hope, the thing he looked ahead on the horizon in hopes it could get him through this awful limbo he was living.Jughead watches as it withers and breaks down as the rain splatters harshly on top of it. Soaking it to its core, and he watches as the colours splatter and mix and distort until it is all gone. Just this haunting culmination of what was once there. Horribly warped.How foolish of him to let himself open the heart he had locked away for good reason, locked away and hidden in the dark corners of a projection booth playing a condensed version of life filled with certainty and a happy end. A conclusion, development, contentment. Jughead had opened himself up again and all he got was a huge blow to his heart and this time Jughead doesn’t think he can put himself back together again.(Jughead tries to process his father being a murderer.)





	i promise you (it will all make sense again)

**Author's Note:**

> is the title inspired by dodie? yes. 
> 
> takes place before we all find out that fp didnt kill jason, and also different canon where someone actually goes looking for jughead when he runs off.

A picture.

Torn, sodden and crumpled on the cold, wet ground. It glistens with the rain.

A picture of his family Jughead keeps in his pocket at all times. A picture that once filled with his cold heart with a little spark of warmth. Even just a little. A picture that once served as his only hope, the thing he looked ahead on the horizon in hopes it could get him through this awful limbo he was living.  

Jughead watches as it withers and breaks down as the rain splatters harshly on top of it. Soaking it to its core, and he watches as the colours splatter and mix and distort until it is all gone. Just this haunting culmination of what was once there. Horribly warped.

It’s scarily to the point, very resemblant of how he feels now.

Jughead was so sure. He was so sure he could get it back. But he got screwed over, again, and again and again. He never learned. He never learned.

How foolish of him to let himself open the heart he had locked away for good reason, locked away and hidden in the dark corners of a projection booth playing a condensed version of life filled with certainty and a happy end. A conclusion, development, contentment. Jughead had opened himself up again and all he got was a huge blow to his heart and this time Jughead doesn’t think he can put himself back together again.

Jughead thinks maybe this is all he’s ever going to be.

He can never be more than these broken parts. Forever a mess running away from a life he thought he could have, only for it to be ripped to pieces and revealing a nightmare of a life he has to run from. A mess running away from what should have been a fun night with his friends, feeling alive, being a kid.

But that’s just not the way it worked for Jughead. There was something written in his DNA that prevented him from having these things.

The sudden realisation that this is all Jughead’s ever going to have and any hope of light and good in his life are all just futile daydreams forever trapped in his mind is too much for him to bear.

There is not much he can do but burst into tears, his heart aching and screaming for something, a bit of warmth, a bit of light, a bit of love and someone to hold him and tell him it’s going to be alright. Feed him this lie just a little bit longer. His body cannot support the heavy weight of his aching body as he slides down onto the wet, glittering sidewalk, and he buries his face in his hands as he cries.

He despises the little pathetic noises that rip out from his throat as he cries. He sounds so weak and stupid and he resents every inch of his being. Jughead sobs into his hands, every inch of his body wet and pouring. His eyes pour with tears, hair dripping delicate little drops and his nose has began to run from how much he’s crying, and also a mix of the cold he has and the cold he’s feeling.

He grieves and shivers with the cold, his body racked with a rampaging fever he swore was only a light one earlier that day. His teeth chatter violently as he throws his arms around himself in a pathetic attempt to stop his frame from convulsing. He sniffles weakly, coughing wetly, a chesty timbre to the explosions and he splutters. He feels awful. Every inch of him feels awful.

It had started as a little cold. He was sneezing a little more than often, there was a congested timbre to his coughing and he felt a little more exhausted than usual. He’d feel a bit of uncomfortable warmth, as well as this invisible weight weighing down in his shoulders. But it was fine, he was fine.

Jughead had been fine up until this point. He was fine. He was getting ready for a dance with his friends doing normal high school things. He was wearing a nice suit and his hair wasn’t quite as messy. Jughead was a part of something. He joined in with everyone else, stepped out of his shadowy sidelines and experienced things. He didn’t just watch as it went by. Jughead was living, and he had let himself think that this was the end of a long cold lonely winter and he could finally begin. Start anew.

His rampaging fever was only a sure sign of the crumbling and horrendous crash of his life. It’s like someone’s killed him, and who better than his own father, who Jughead thought was getting better, only to find he had already taken an innocent life. A child much like himself. Gone, because of his own flesh and blood.

His mind drifts off to a place so dark and deep, and he starts hoping that his father could come out now and take him too. It almost seems better than this hell he was living.

A sudden burst of coughing takes him away from that dark place and Jughead is glad, because he doesn’t want to be there, but the alternative still hurts. When he coughs it’s like someone is stabbing him in the chest repeatedly, and an awfully painful, screeching echo is left in him after each hacking cough that doubles him over.

The sickly sound is awfully resonant from his chest, and it sounds wet and horrible. Nothing can be worse than this. Jughead continues to cry as he rain falls and leaves him frozen to the bone. He continues to shiver violently and sniffle wetly, awkwardly trying to wipe away the clear liquid onto his sleeve. The action irritates his already reddened and sensitive nose, and he’s taken over by a sharp inhale as his nostrils twinge a little bit and he pitches forward with two harsh, miserable sneezes.

He feels so sick and tired, like he just wants to cuddle up in an actual bed in an actual home that belongs to him and sleep for an eternity. Jughead just wants to rest. His head is so heavy and blurry and clogged up he just wants to curl up then and there. He’s awfully miserable and he just wants for a little bit of sun. A little bit of warmth.

And he does.

It’s not quite what he had been picturing in his mind, but it’s more or less the same. Still warmth, still the sun.

He hears little footsteps in plodding along the rain, making little splashing noises as the being walks across the wet pavement. Jughead doesn’t budge from his crouched, crying position because he doesn’t care. He cannot find it in his heart to care anymore because last time he did he was hurt. He doesn’t care whoever this is, wether it’s some poor confused passerby or Sheriff Keller looking to interrogate him.

But whoever this person is cares enough to calmly approach him, he can feel their presence (and it’s wonderfully warm and Jughead wants to hold them but he’s too scared), they bend down to sit next to him on the edge of the sidewalk.

“Juggie..” Archie whispers softly, reaching out to hold him but cautious. Archie knows Jughead well, he doesn’t always like to be touched.

Jughead doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t know how to.

All he can really do is look up at Archie with a look that is screaming “please help me” or “I need you” or “I don’t know what i’m going to do and everything hurts so much please don’t go” or “I’m falling apart at the seams and I don’t think I can hang on any longer please hold me and don’t let go” but Jughead can’t say anything. He just bursts into tears away and looks away in shame of himself. Ashamed he’s gotten this low.

Jughead desperately wants to just grab at Archie and take in whatever light is left for him. Because Archie is the only light left and he’s shining so bright but Jughead is so scared that once he touches him Archie’s light will go out too. If that happens, Jughead isn’t sure if he can handle it.

He wants to bask in Archie’s light and fall into him and let the world disappear but he’s afraid. He can’t let himself live this lie anymore. This sort of thing cannot and will not happen for him. He has to save his heart. It can’t take it anymore. He can’t let himself believe he can go home to Archie because it is not his home. Jughead cannot belong anywhere. He is doomed to be alone forever. To forever live day by day, forever never having a sense of stability and a home to go to. He will never belong.

“Juggie, I’m so sorry…” Archie says shakily, looking at Jughead with a look so full of guilt and sadness and sympathy. Like his heart is breaking with him.

“You deserve better,” Archie whispers softly, but his voice is strong despite the softness. He is looking at him with so much love and compassion that Jughead can’t help but fall back in. Fall back into this wonderland of an idea of a home. He’s falling back in, and he’s filled with so much terror but it feels so good to let himself believe he can have one.

He’s fallen.

Jughead caves in and lets out a sharp gasp, and falls into Archie’s embrace. The bigger boy is slightly taken aback, but he melts into it with ease and lets it happen. He wraps his arms around Jughead’s shivering frame and lets him hold him close. He holds him with all the love he can possibly muster.

Jughead balls Archie’s t-shirt into his fists, grip tight. He sobs, voice cracking as tears start to drip onto Archie’s grey baseball tee. He’s changed from his suit, Jughead notes, meaning a significant amount of time has passed since the news. He wonders how long it’s been.

Jughead’s breathing begins to pick up as he sobs furiously into Archie’s t shirt, and his best friend soothingly rubs his back while making soft, comforting noises to try and console him to the best of his ability.

“Wh-what the fuck am I going t-to do?! I’m so lost, I don’t kn-know..I w-was s-so sure, Arch..I thought I could f-finally have a family, t-that I could f-finally go home! I was so f-fucking wrong, Archie. I can never..I will never have a home. This is all I’m e-ever going to be!” Jughead sobs hard, his grip tightening. He feels faint from his lack of breathing, his shallow breaths causing his head to ache and the world to spin. His world has already tilted as it is, and now it spins rapidly like he’s on a never ending ride that keeps on going and there’s nothing he can do to stop its eventual crash.

“My dad is a _MURDERER!”_ Jughead hisses angrily, his breathing rough and ragged. “He didn’t just kill Jason that night, he killed my family! He killed any chance of us getting back together! He tore it all apart and watched as it burned! I had a dream my life would be so different from this fucking hell i’m living and he turned it to shame! I hate this! _I HATE THIS!”_

 _“Jug,”_ Archie tries hopelessly as he tries to hold Jughead together as he continues to convulse beneath his grasp. He tenses as the boy began to cough violently, an awfully chesty timbre to the sound of it. His body is racked by the burst of explosions, causing him to bob forward weakly. Archie cups a hand around Jughead’s face and frowns.

“God, Jug! You’re burning up!! We gotta get you home..” Archie gasps.

Jughead lets out a weak moan when he finishes and shakes his head, mumbling feverishly, his body still shuddering,“Nowhere to go..”

“You do, Jughead, please, come with me,” Archie begs worriedly, his heart beginning to race slightly as he feels the intense heat radiating off of Jughead’s pale, wet skin.

“No!” Jughead gasps, and his eyes flicker wildly as he falls into a panic, “I’ve nowhere to go, I’m alone, I’m so alone, I don’t know where I’m going, I just want to be a kid, why can’t I be a kid, what did I do wrong? I hate myself so much..hh..!”

Jughead is spewing out words irrationally, his breathing short as he heaved and gasps, hands shaking violently as he looks around wildly.

“Jughead!” Archie exclaims, bringing Jughead back to reality. He reaches for his shaking, frozen hands and holds them steady, firm in his warmer hands. He intertwines them firmly, scared if he lets go Jughead will be lost from him forever. He’ll slip away for good.

“It’s not your fault,” Archie says softly.

Jughead looks away.

“Jughead, look at me, it’s not your fault,” Archie says.

“I know,” Jughead says shakily, chuckling slightly to try and brush him off.

“No, you don’t, Jughead, It’s not your fault.”

Tears prick at his eyes, shoving him away slightly, _“I know!_ I know! Shut up!”

“Jughead..It’s not your fault.”

Jughead breaks down into another round of tears and throws himself onto Archie, holding him tightly as he cries. It’s almost like sense of relief has washed over him, an overwhelming clarity that has just graced him. A burden off of his shoulders.

“You are never going to be alone. You belong here, Jughead, as much as that voice in your head tells you you don’t. We all love you, Jughead. I’m here, Jughead, and I am not going anywhere. I’m here, and I am here to tell you you are so much more than you think of yourself. And as long as I’m here, you will have a home. It’s not so much the family you were born with, but the family you make along the way. You are my family, Jughead.”

A fond twinkle sparkled across Archie’s eyes, “You know that movie when we were kids? Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind.”

Jughead managed a small smile, his shaking subsiding a little, “I was..I was thinking more along the lines of Vin Diesel in the Fast and the Furious ‘I don’t have friends, I have family’ type, but that’s alright I guess.”

Archie manages a little chuckle at that, glad that Jughead has enough left in him to tell a joke. He hasn’t lost him yet, and he hopes it lasts for a little while because once Jughead has stopped making jokes Archie has lost him completely. The moment Jughead stops distracting himself, he’ll let the monsters in, and Archie’s afraid of what that will do.

He can only hope his love is enough.

Jughead’s face scrunches up and his breath hitches, and his nose flares a little and he pitches forward with three messy sneezes towards the glistening gravel and he groans. He rubs his nose irritably and is suddenly taken over by another sneeze which he sloppily covers with the hand already on his nose.

“Bless you,” Archie says quietly as he pulls Jughead to his feet.

“Lets go home.”

* * *

Archie helps Jughead into the house, trying to shush him for apologising about how wet he is. He’s almost glad another harsh, sickly sounding sneeze escapes him because it means Jughead can shut up for once.

Archie passes Jughead a tissue and he obliges, blowing his nose softly and eventually, he ends up sneezing again, scrunching his nose up as he continues to sneeze all over the tissue. He gasps for air in between, feeling extremely woozy as he finishes.

“Bless you, kiddo,” Fred says softly, but yet somehow his voice booms across the hallway which causes Jughead to jump slightly (Archie makes a mental note to bring his dad’s lack of an indoor voice up sometime, and Fred says Archie’s guitar is loud).

Fred approaches Jughead and gives him one sad look, and then all of a sudden he’s giving Jughead a huge hug and embracing him. He’s embracing Jughead with so much fatherly love and care, more care in this one moment than Jughead thinks he’s ever received in his whole life. It’s a little scary, but it’s nice.

“I’m so sorry, Jughead, you don’t deserve this. I hope you know that. We are more than happy to be your family for now, and we’ll have you for as long as you have us. I love you, Jughead, and I’m so so sad the world has done this to you. You deserve all the sunshine and blue skies, and it’s a crime this is what you’ve received,” Fred whispers, eyes closed as he lightly rocks Jughead in his hug. Jughead feels small, but in the best possible way. He feels safe and protected, like everything’s going to be okay.

“I..don’t want to do this to you guys,” Jughead croaks.

“Do what? All you’ve done for us is good.” Fred reassures.

Jughead nods and he tries to pull away, but he’s too weak, and ends up accidentally muffling four tired sneezes into Fred’s jacket.

“Excuse me,” Jughead mumbles with embarrassment, but Fred only chuckles and ruffles the curly black hair.

“Archie, go get him some dry clothes, he’s freezing,” Fred says, and sends Jughead off on his way.

“This is your home, Jughead. You are not alone.”

“And we are going to tell you that as many times as it takes for you to understand that concept, Jughead. This is your home and we love you,” Archie smiles softly.

A few minutes later, Jughead comes into Archie’s bedroom/ in a soft sweater and sweat pants, beanie less, pale and red nosed and cheeked, sick looking, tired, exhausted. But he looks a little less broken than he had been a while ago.

Archie ushers him onto the bed and  joins him on the bed, and immediately loving arms are being wrapped around him and he lets out a shaky exhale of relief as multiple warm blankets are draped over him.

Archie wraps an arm around Jughead’s waist as Fred comes up to feel his temperature. He frowns.

“That’s not good at all,” Fred frowns. “He’s going to feel awful tomorrow.”

“And we’ll be here for him,” Archie confirms.

“Jughead..you will talk to us, about this, right? You know we’re here to listen,” Archie asks quietly.

Jughead thinks, and it takes a while for him with his feverish haze. He’s not really sure at first, but despite this daze, the answer is crystal clear and he could not be more sure.

“I will,” This time, he means it.

Fred gives him a sad smile and a fatherly kiss on the head, “Jug..i promise you that everything will make sense again. And that this will all feel like a very long time ago.”

Jughead smiles softly, and maybe this time, it’s genuine. He cuddles against Archie, and he closes his eyes. He can finally get some rest. In a home that belongs to him.

Maybe one day there will be another picture. Maybe this time it will have him, Archie and Fred all laughing at some fishing trip they went on together with the sun shining and the river sparkling. Or maybe it will even be FP and his Mom and Jellybean at a birthday party that didn’t end in tears.

Whatever is it is,  it’s going to leave him with a warm feeling of hope whenever he looks of it. It’s going to be alive with colour and it’s going to be beautiful.

Maybe not now, Jughead needs time. He needs to heal. But it’s going to happen one day, and Jughead can’t wait for the day it comes.

And when it does it’ll all make sense again.


End file.
